


For I Am Yours

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Everybody Lives, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 14:23:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Arkenstone has been cleansed from the dwarf, and he seeks out the one alone who can again bring him home. After taking Bilbo as his husband, and ushering in Durin's Day and Yuletide with the hobbit at his side, Thorin grows weary with the weight of the crown. The trickling age is apparent to none but Bilbo, and he decides to lessen the burden. </p><p>{Fluff-tastic smut drabble I wrote for my Thorin (underthemistymountain on tumblr). Tied to our Alternate Universe where Bilbo is taken as the husband of the King. First time writing smut, so comment kindly!}</p>
            </blockquote>





	For I Am Yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Underthemistymountain](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Underthemistymountain).



Carven halls, the deep expanse of heavy air and cold rock. Bilbo never thought upon his first glances of the dwarven kingdom, that this place would be his home. The echoed noises of the deep had silenced for the night, for now only distant and dulled melodies echoed into the throne room. A great meal had been prepared, shared amongst the workers as mead and roasted boar was passed around. It seemed though that only one had not shown to the feast, for even the hobbit had come, dressed in his new attire, and made friends in the festivities. 

Truthfully, Bilbo worried for Thorin. As of late, with the arrival of the newest heir, the elder Durin had taken the brunt of Kingship, no longer having the aid of his nephew-- despite all pleading from the yellow-haired dwarf. The halfling knew in his heart he wished for Fili to spend time with his daughter and wife, and so he sat, dictating, listening, and thinking. The cogs of the dwarf’s mind seemed burdened with the weight of new mining locations, new workmen and dwarves making their way to the mountain realm. A King had to find ways to accommodate all who wished to live under the mountain, and so he did. Trade, crafting, building, wages, and the approaching spring were all worries, though nothing was spoken to words. Thorin shared many things, but worries he knew he did not have to share-- Bilbo could see age working its way into the blue eyes, trickling inwards like a chilling January thaw. 

Crawling past the barely opened stone doors, the halfling toed his way along the wide rock path. Lights in the throne room were out lest for the deepened lanterns shining from the mines. Ghastly, and beautifully haunting light filtered upwards, casting shadows on the deepened features of carven Kings. Bilbo swallowed his fear, eyes taking in the familiar statues. Long ago, the night of their commitment in these very halls, hands twined with silk, a chaste kiss exchanged before the stone eyes of ancestors, presenting their love before the King’s of old, the burglar had felt a fear. The same fear he held in the cold night’s of the quest: the fear of acceptance. Now, the faces held fairer tones, and a shiver of pride clung to his spine as he walked along. 

He only hoped he had done rightfully by dwarves, and by his love. 

In his hands were offerings of food and drink that the dwarf denied himself. The hobbit knew not how long it had been since Thorin had eaten, and he knew he would not like to know. 

“Your workings have grown longer-- come, celebrate your niece.” Silence called back through the halls, and a surge of worry ran like daggers through the halfling’s viens. Feet scuttled forward, faster now, full gulps of honey mead spilling over the side, though once close Bilbo could only sigh with a chuckle rimming his lips. 

“Fallen asleep once more,” Bilbo whispered to himself, carefully setting the plate of roasted meat and the half filled chalice down alongside the steps to the stone pedestal. Parchment rested on his chest, his neck angled backwards, crown slouching to the left side of his head. Moving forward, a curl of lips puffed out the hobbit’s cheeks, and his hands gently reached for the papers, tossing them alongside the throne. Perhaps a little too forcefully, for the papers soared in the wind, fluttering down to the depths of the mines below. A stifled gulp caught in Bilbo’s throat, and his eyes went wide. 

I do hope those weren’t awfully important.

Turning away from the scene at hand, The halfling stepped forward, the weight shifting to his knee resting between the dwarf’s thighs, his other foot dangling down alongside the King’s, draped over the powerful thigh, toes resting on his boot. His left hand rested on the large stone armrest, and his right hand grasped the raven crown, resting it down on the opposing armrest. 

A jolt. He was waking. 

Bilbo pressed forward more, his cheek pressed against the dwarf’s, and his chest against the curve of the dwarf’s throat. His free hand reached to the other side of Thorin’s cheek, cupping it softly before tracing down along the King’s beard, then taking the braid and twining it between his fingers, softly and intimately, in the way he knew drove the dwarf mad with lust. 

“Again you leave our chambers empty,” Bilbo whispered to the ring adorned ear, breath pooling hotly in it’s curves. “I grow restless without a pillow to rest,” The halfling raised his left hand, now resting entirely on his knee, and Thorin’s body, and curled it over the smooth line of his chest, fingers dragging over the King’s nipples, circling them before dragging further downwards. 

“Without warmth of your touch,” The fingers lifted, gliding over the crevices of the dwarf’s muscles, everyone the hobbit knew just by touch. The darkness added to the intimacy, Bilbo found, as his blood thickened and grew feverish. His cock began to harden, and the halfling pressed further to the dwarf, his mouth now lingering above Thorin’s ear, and his erection pressing lightly to the chest of the King. Each word now, the halfling’s teeth caught on the dwarf’s ears, tugging slightly with the last syllables. “Without the feel of your bareness against my skin.”

Truthfully, a hunger grew in the hobbit’s loins, pressing his hand down farther, ghosting the outline of Thorin’s member, still trapped within the linen of his pants. Bilbo’s hands grew firmer, grasping the head of his lover’s cock, and dragging his thumb over the head. Slowly his fingers worked through the fabric, grasping, and curling and uncurling as his body pulled from the King, only to glance into the orbs of crystal clear water. A fire was light within his body, and his hand loosened it’s grasp, only now lingering against the King’s erection with featherlight touches. 

“I’m sorry to have waken you,” Bilbo whispered softly as he leaned his lips to the dwarf’s, his knee lifting and his body sinking. Feigning genuine concern, for he knew truly his lover would rest better after, and far more comfort would be found in their chambers. Slowly, he took Thorin’s lips in his, a demanding kiss grasping hold like a stoked flame. His hand grasped tighter to the King and his heart swelled with the genuineness of all the words of love he had either spoken. 

Lifting from the bed of hair, the lips dragged downwards, Bilbo’s hand ghosting over the braided beard, tugging it as he ventured further down, stopping just short of the pant ties. Slowly the halfling raised the dwarf’s tunic, just high enough above his head so Thorin would lift it the rest of the way. Lowering his head further, Bilbo drug moistened lips over the visible veins and raised skin from tattooing, his breath hot against the loins of the dwarf, venturing lower than the abs, yet just above where touched was truly desired. His thumb stroked the dwarf’s desire, curling over the head of his cock, as his teeth caught the pants ties in his mouth, and with a firm tug, the knot fell loose. 

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Bilbo cautiously whispered, now on his knees before the throne, dewy skin shimmering in the ghostly lantern light. 

As the pants were removed, the halfling leaned forward, dragging his lips over the head of the dwarf’s cock. Feeling the hot lubricant leak alongside his lips, he opened slowly, pressing the head of Thorin’s erection in his mouth just as far as his lips would open. Slowly he pressed on, mouth forming a seal of gentle suction, and tongue grazing the underside of the weeping crown. His hands lingered downwards, breaking the cold stone from the King’s skin. 

After a few moments, gentle bobbing, mixed with a mixture of firm, and soft sucking, the hobbit released the dwarf from his mouth, cheeks now rosey, the cause either bashfulness or desire. 

“Claim me, for I am yours.”


End file.
